Never
by AShellThatSings
Summary: You walk up the stairs, up the bleachers, and my heart jumps and catches and skips and does all of those things that define lovesick girls and girls who have no idea what they really want.  And of course, I'm the latter.


I see you at the football game.

I thought it would be a good idea to go, but now I'm here and I feel like I'm being punched in the chest because my old life seems so close.

But so far away.

You walk by, and I risk being stared at, being glared at, being ignored. I call out your name, and wave, saying hey.

You wave absentmindedly, not really noticing until I'm gone.

But that's the way it's always been.

I'm up in the stands, cheering for my former team, trying to push away all thoughts of you, and how much you've changed, and how much everyone changed, and how you did have a girlfriend and...

I won't think about you. I tell myself over and over again that you aren't worth it. That you aren't worth any of my valuable, precious time, that you aren't even what I want anyway.

But I stop. Because you _are_ worth my time, and you used to be what I wanted.

Because I'm lying to myself and we both know it.

You walk up the stairs, up the bleachers, and my heart jumps and catches and skips and does all of those things that define lovesick girls and girls who have no idea what they really want.

And of course, I'm the latter, because you look so beautiful, not in a girly way (because you aren't a girl, or even just a normal guy,) in a very handsome and mature and dare I say perfect way, and I make a mental note to myself to find pictures of your face online because it looks just so... wonderful.

And I nearly slap myself because I'm still lying to myself. I find it so hard to tell myself the truth that I don't.

You got braces. And they make your teeth look funny. And your hair is spiky again, but I can't deny that it looks so good.

And you ask me where I'm going to school now.

And you forget my name.

You call me by my friend's name, and I flash back to something I've either read or imagined.

I'm suddenly an innocent peasant girl and I see in front of me a handsome prince with a smirk or a smile, (I can't tell which,) and you pull out a poisoned dagger and stab me with a flash of your smile.

Then I flash forward to your question and I respond with a touch of my newfound courage, but I'm shaking inside, and I add humor and sarcasm to my comment, and I seem like such a bold and smart girl.

But I'm not.

And you know it as well as I do, so you do realize that that isn't my name, and I smile. On the outside.

The inside is another story.

Then I'm talking with my friend and she asks you if you think I'm mean, (you know I have weird friends) and you say something.

It's not that I don't know what you say, because I do.

But your eyes say more.

You say with your eyes that you miss me, that you loved me, that you wish I still went to school with you.

But I'm imagining things. And for the rest of the night I watch you, football thrown to the wind, and you and your laughing eyes and brilliant metallic smile and your spiky gelled hair on my mind.

The rest of the night, I try to remember everything you did, everything you said, all of you.

Because no matter how much I try, I can't forget you, and I'll probably never get over you, and I will strive for anything I can hear or see about you.

And if you have ever missed anyone, I hope you miss me.

Like I miss you.

And we'll see each other again someday but the chasm seems too wide to cross in one night.

The bridges are all gone, and I'm still just that peasant girl, and you're still the laughing prince with the poisoned weapon. But this time you see the walls you have to get through.

And I wait.

I wait for years and years and years and you never get through.

I wait for days and days and days and you never contact me.

And it hurts.

It hurts so bad, I think the poison is infecting me, that I'm hallucinating, that you're right there waiting.

But you're not.

And I'm lying to myself again.

Because deep deep down I know that no matter how much I try, it would take an act of God to bring us back together.

So I go to all the football games I can.

I look you up online.

I ask my friends about you, ignoring their teasing, letting them plan our wedding.

I analyze everything I hear, thinking maybe, just maybe.

Maybes never really worked for me. I know that, you know that.

This particular peasant decided to not lie to herself anymore, to avoid thinking of you.

Maybe then it will be okay.

Maybe I won't have to fight through my own walls.

Maybe all I have to do is let you in.

But maybes aren't ever going to work for either of us, so I tell myself that I can be okay. That you will come. That when you do, it will be all better. Like a kissed boo-boo.

But I have promised not to lie to myself.

At the next football game, I won't look for you.

I will avoid you.

I just won't even come.

But that will break my heart.

And I can't stay away from you anyway.

I really have to stop lying to myself.

I'm just going in circles.

Lies to lies to lies.

When will I reach the truth?

When will I finally have someone like you?

When will this vicious cycle of ignorance and annoyance end?

When will I stop lying to myself?

To my friends?

To you?

Never.

**a/n: okay, so this is going to be another one of those obnxiously long author's notes, so you can skip it if you want. this story is not fiction. not really. this happened to me about two weeks ago, and i was like, "oh, maybe i should write about it. maybe that would help." so about a quarter of the way through, i thought "wow, this could be a fanfic about amy." so it became a fanfic about amy. by the way, llamas will one day rule the world.**

**-hope/shell**


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